Once A Rogue, Always A Rogue
by Agent ERA
Summary: A drabble series featuring the Fab Four at their best and their worst. Will have guest appearances by other Rogues and Wraiths...Non-slash
1. A Legacy Is Born

**Once A Rogue, Always A Rogue**

**Characters: Wes J, Jek P., Luke S, Wedge A., Hobbie Klivian. **

**Rating: Pg**

**Summary:** Wes Janson gets sick and Jek Porkins is sent in his stead to fight the Death Star.

* * *

><p><strong>1.<strong>

**A Legacy Is Born…**

"But Sir, I can still fly!"

"No." A pause, "You're sick, Janson, deal with it."

"Not that sick." Wes Janson protested.

Commander Dante shook his head exasperated, "Sick enough to be a liability."

"Sir, I can't just sit here in the infirmary while Yavin faces off that Death Star."

"I know, Wes, but for the last time, you are to sick to fly in a straight line much less take off from the hanger. We can find someone else to fill your slot." Dante said, "but we'll give 'em an extra punch for you."

Wes tried to grin but failed, he sighed and looked away, "Thanks," he mumbled.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Jek stopped by the infirmary. He glanced at the mountain of blankets on the bunk, "Is he in there?" Jek asked the passing nurse.<p>

"Oh yes," she nodded, "Poor thing hasn't come out since the commander left."

Jek sighed and firmly poked where Janson's head would be and was rewarded with a groan. A mop of black hair reluctantly showed and a blurred hazel eye opened. "You know I hate when you do that."

Jek grinned slightly and shifted his helmet on his left hip. He hesitated, then said, "I'm shippin' out in your place."

Janson blinked slowly and pulled the rest of the blankets away from his head. He leaned back against his pillows. "Oh."

There was a moment of awkward silence, then, "Wes-"

Janson held up a hand, "Don't, Piggy, just don't," He started to say something but erupted into a coughing fit.

Jek dropped his helmet to pound Janson's back, "Breath, Janson, breath!"

Janson gulped air in greedily after the fit eased and wiped tears from his eyes.

Jek sighed and picked up his helmet, "I should probably go."

Janson picked at the threads of one of his blankets, after a moment he said somberly, "May the Force be with you, Piggy."

Jek finally smiled and clapped Janson on his shoulder, "We'll definitely need it." He paused at the doorway, "I'll see you when you come."

"Count on it."

* * *

><p>It was a week later when his illness finally decided to abate, Wes heard the bad news. Well, it was bad news mixed with good news actually. After the nurse left, Wes buried his face in his pillow and cried.<p>

* * *

><p>They found him staring at the memorial hologram of Jek outside the throne room.<p>

"It wasn't your fault, Wes." Luke said softly.

Wes shook his head, "I should've been here,"

"It wouldn't have made any difference," Wedge said.

They fell into a tense silence.

"Maybe it was a good thing you got sick," Hobbie said thoughtfully.

Wes whirled his head around, "What?" he crossed his arms.

Hobbie held up his hands, "Hear me out, Wes," he protested, "Think about it, if you had gone instead of Piggy, you probably wouldn't made it either."

Wes sighed dejectedly, "Yeah, I know," he rubbed his nose, "At least I would've been able to make a difference."

"Maybe," Wedge said, "maybe not."

"Well, on a more cheery note," Luke said, "General Dodonna's allowed me to commission a brand new fighter squadron."

They exchanged glances, "You have a name?" Hobbie asked.

"Well, I don't know about you guys but I was thinking about Rogue Squadron."

Wedge grinned, "I like the sound of that."

Wes clapped his hands on Luke's and Hobbie's shoulders, "Welcome to Rogue Squadron boys."

_TBC_

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN:_** Well? Did you like? Please let me know. Reviews are much appreciated.


	2. Death of a Rogue

_**Title**_: Death of a Rogue  
><em><strong>Rating<strong>_**:** T  
><em><strong>Characters<strong>_: Wedge A, Tycho C, Hobbie K.  
><em><strong>Summary<strong>_: AU. Wes does not survive the battle at Distna in _Isard's__Revenge._ Wedge's POV.  
><em><strong>Warning: <strong>_Major character death and scattered spoilers...

* * *

><p>The morgue was cold. Wedge rubbed his upper arms in a vain attempt warm himself. Uneasily, he glanced at his silent companions. Tycho's face was carefully blank. To those who didn't know him it would appear that he was unaffected by eerie room. Wedge, however, knew better. Hobbie wore the most mournful expression Wedge had ever seen. Wedge knew that Hobbie often wore a dour expression but this time it was completely genuine. Hobbie glanced up as if sensing Wedge's scrutiny, his baby blue eyes were watery, and he blinked.<p>

A noise at the far end of the room startled the three pilots out of their silent misery. A coronary attendant entered the room and approached them. He paused and then cleared his throat, breaking the thick silence, he said, "Follow me." With that he walked back the way he came. Wedge glanced at the others and quickly walked after the attendant. The attendant led through a corridor then to another room, this one smaller than the other one. "He's in there," The man said softly, "I'll wait here."

Wedge nodded his thanks, unable to say anything. He took a deep breath and shoved open the door before he changed his mind, Tycho and Hobbie followed. What he saw stopped him in his tracks. Hobbie made a choked noise in his throat and grasped for Tycho's forearm blindly. Wedge stared. Tycho swallowed.

Lying before them, dressed in his dress uniform, was Wes Janson. His eyes were closed in permanent slumber. His dark brown hair had been meticulously combed and parted to one side. His hands were folded neatly across his torso.

Wedge blinked the sudden moisture from his eyes but it refused to leave. He swallowed hard. Wedge grasped a cold, pale wrist. He felt Tycho wrap his arm around his trembling shoulders. "Oh Wes," Wedge whispered hoarsely.

Wedge huddled closely with Tycho whose arms were wrapped around the both and together they grieved for their lost friend. Never again, would they hear _"__Yub__yub,__Commander__"_ nor would they hear Wes's teasing laughter, be the victim of one his notorious pranks. Never again, would Hobbie be rankled by Wes's vain attempts in matchmaking or trying to pick up girls in bars. Together, they grieved a lost brother.

Slowly, Wedge straightened from his hunched posture and squeezed Wes's limp wrist one last time, he whispered "Yub yub, Wes." Hobbie briefly touched his friend's face, "I'll miss you, Wes." Tycho lightly touched Wes's hand, "Be at peace," he paused, "our brother."

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN:_**_ Well, was it too sappy? Please let me know if you liked it. Reviews are gladly received and help feed my inspiration to write more..._

_ERA_


End file.
